


Go Find Your Spirit (In the Lost and Found)

by deepfriedcynic



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepfriedcynic/pseuds/deepfriedcynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years later, it’s still the Kurt And Rachel New York Extravaganza! Except that nothing on Kurt’s end has really worked out the way it was supposed to, and he’s starting to wonder if it was all a big mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Find Your Spirit (In the Lost and Found)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 Puck/Kurt Chrismukkah Exchange on LJ.
> 
> Title shamelessly stolen from Mika’s “Blue Eyes.” And I’m pretty sure everyone already knows this, but “Let it Be” is by The Beatles.

Kurt wakes up to Rachel and Frank doing an impromptu duet in her bedroom – again – and groans, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. The walls in this apartment might be thicker than the ones in the first place they ever got, but Rachel’s never sung quietly a day in her life, and one of these days it’s going to get them kicked out.

They’re lucky, he supposes, that the elderly couple who live above them are hard of hearing and the guy who’d lived below them had moved out last month with only a grumble and one last whack to the ceiling with his broomstick, but one of these days someone’s going to take that apartment who doesn’t appreciate an 8am Broadway Wake-Up Call and they’re either going to break in and torch Rachel’s Barbra collection or they’re going to give the landlord a good reason to finally toss them out on their fabulously talented behinds.

Kurt hauls himself out from under the covers and walks into his bathroom, shutting the door firmly for all the good it does, and sticks his head under a steaming shower just as soon as he can get one started and strip out of his pajamas.

Getting kicked out, at least, would save Rachel from delivering the sure-to-be-awkward Maybe You Should Find Your Own Place speech he knows Rachel’s been planning ever since Frank proposed, all of fourteen hours ago. It’s the best plan, and he knows that – he might make more money than either of them, but there’s no reason one man should be paying for a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment in the city when he doesn’t have to. The thought of moving, though, just makes him _tired._

It’s not just a question of _where will I live now?_ , not really. For the last couple of years he’s convinced himself that he’s still had a defined place in New York City because Rachel still needed him there, but now, with a husband to-be and a steady role in a Broadway production, even he can’t delude himself into thinking he’s a necessary fixture in her life. So instead, he’s left having to ask himself the real question: _what do I do now?_

When he climbs out of the shower, Rachel and Frank have thankfully stopped singing, he can hear the sounds of her shower running, and the smell of coffee is wafting into his room from under the door. He pulls on the outfit he laid out the night before and goes to work fixing his hair at the small vanity he has crammed in the corner of the room.

One thing about the 8am Broadway Wake-Up Call, it does at least ensure that Kurt has time to stop at Starbucks and make it to work on the Upper East Side in a timely manner. Grabbing his bag and his keys and walking out the door, Kurt marvels, as he does every morning, that even after eight years in New York, Rachel Berry still can’t manage to make a decent pot of coffee.

*

It’s a bit more difficult than usual, getting up to his apartment after work that evening, because there are three guys and a mattress clogging up the third-floor stairwell, and not even in a fun way.

There’s a fourth guy on the landing above him trying to guide them through it, and doing so very poorly judging by the fact that they appear to be stuck.

Kurt hears a sigh. “Alright, guys, let’s try it vertically again. Now that we’re around the corner, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

And it’s been a while since Kurt heard that voice in person, and not on television or the radio, but he’s still fairly certain that that’s –

“Puckerman?”

And sure enough, the head that sticks out over the landing – now without Mohawk – belongs to Noah Puckerman, Rock Star and the guy who used to eat all of Kurt’s granola bars every time he and Finn would have a weekend-long Halo marathon.

Puck grins when he realizes who said his name, and calls back, “Hummel! What are you doing down there?”

Kurt grins back without even knowing he’s going to. “You and your mattress appear to be blocking the way to my apartment. Speaking of which, shouldn’t both you and your mattress be in Chicago? Last time I talked to Finn, he said you were still really liking it there.”

“Oh, I love it there! I’ve got a new album out in January, though, and my agent has me signed up to do all of these interviews and talk shows and shit in the city, so the label set me up here for a couple of months.” He nods at the moving guys explanatorily, who are looking a bit disgruntled at the fact that he’s stopped guiding them to have a conversation. “So, you still living with Berry, then?”

Kurt nods, glancing warily at the moving guys, who are throwing scowls at him now. “If you’re on the third floor, I’m pretty sure we’ll be right above you, actually. But I should probably head back down and take the elevator up before your guys quit and you try to rope me into helping you haul this thing up the stairs. I’ll see you later, though?”

Puck grins at him again, and waves. “Yeah, definitely. See you later, Kurt.” 

As Kurt jogs back down the stairs and waits for the elevator to come, he’s of two minds about having Puck living below them. It will be nice, he supposes, having more eye candy in the building, especially since it’s someone he already knows. But on the other hand, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take living in close proximity to two people whose high school dreams have come true when his most certainly haven’t.

*

Puck’s standing on the third floor landing when Kurt’s on his way down the next morning, casting annoyed glances toward the ceiling, and Kurt just has to laugh.

“Does she do that every morning?” Puck asks, dragging a hand down the length of his face.

“She’s better than an alarm clock. Unless, of course, unlike me, you don’t have to be at work on the Upper East Side at 9:30 in the morning. In which case I recommend some industrial grade earplugs.”

“Fantastic,” Puck grumbles, glaring up at the ceiling again, and Kurt snorts.

“Let me guess, the nostalgia of living below two of your old gleemates has faded with the realization that one of them is Rachel Berry?”

Puck smiles at him grimly. “Something like that. How is it that you two have managed not to get kicked out before now? Because believe me, I could hear her and her boytoy loud and clear.”

“Deaf upstairs neighbors and a revolving door of downstairs neighbors who dislike confrontation, for the most part,” Kurt says drily, “though it’s taken a plate of ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies with a twenty slipped in underneath to keep us in the black with the landlord a couple of times.”

Puck laughs like he’s not really surprised by any of that and reaches over to clap Kurt on the shoulder. “You know, I didn’t think I would, but I’ve actually missed you, dude. No one I know in Chicago does smartass quite like you do.” Kurt rolls his eyes, but smiles at him anyway. “So, I guess I should probably let you get to work, but what are you doing later? We should catch up.”

“I usually get home from work around 6:30, but I don’t have any plans after that. You can come over for dinner if you’d like; Rachel will be out with Frank for their ‘every other night is date night unless one of us has prior obligations’ Date Night,” Kurt informs him with a shrug. “If I remember correctly, you used to like my cooking. Should be ready around 7:30 or so.”

Puck grins and squeezes the shoulder his hand is still resting on. “Sounds like fun, Hummel. It’s a date!”

Deliberately not thinking too much about that word choice, Kurt watches Puck make his way back into his apartment before checking his watch and dashing off down the stairs. That had cut way too far into his Starbucks time.

*

Having Puck poking around his apartment that night while he finished cooking their dinner wasn’t nearly as strange as Kurt might have thought. Or, okay, as he _had_ been thinking, all through work that day. He and Puck might have become kind-of almost friends their senior year at McKinley, but they had never been close enough that Kurt would have imagined being 27 and cooking dinner for the two of them as Puck ran his fingers across the books on Kurt’s bookcase and cracked jokes about Rachel’s collection of gold star themed knick-knacks.

He hears the tell-tale scrape of a chair being pulled away from the kitchen table, and when he glances around, Puck has settled himself in it and is watching Kurt cook.

“You don’t sing when you cook anymore?” For a moment, he’s surprised that Puck remembers that. He looks back again and sees his guest with head tilted in genuine curiosity and shrugs.

“This apartment doesn’t need much more of a musical accompaniment with Rachel living here, does it?”

“What about when she’s not here? You said she and this Frank dude are out a lot, right?” Kurt shrugs again and Puck huffs out a breath. “Come on dude, you should sing! You were always better than Berry anyway.”

Kurt throws his head back and laughs at that. “You don’t have to flatter me, Puck. I’m not going to poison your dinner, I promise.”

Puck laughs along with him for a short moment, then offers, “You want me to sing backup? Because I totally will.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him but, after a moment, starts humming the first thing that comes to mind. “ _When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, ‘let it be.’_ ” He sings through finishing dinner, through plating up, and he really enjoys it. Enjoys it like he hasn’t in a long time. Until he turns around and Puck is still watching him closely, but he no longer looks amused.

For the first few minutes, they eat in silence, but apparently Puck just can’t keep in whatever seems to be bothering him, because he puts his fork down and leans forward. “Alright, Hummel, spill. What’s going on with you?”

Kurt freezes and meets his gaze with wide eyes. “I don’t…What…Nothing, nothing’s going on, really. I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“Bullshit. Everyone knows ‘I’m fine’ is just code for ‘my life sucks, leave me alone.’ But you’ve known me long enough to know I’m not going to leave it alone, so you need to just save us both some time and spill it.” Puck is frowning hard at him now, and Kurt is utterly flabbergasted. No one’s picked up on his mood this quickly since…since he moved out of his dad’s house.

“I…how…” he tries again, but still the words won’t come. Puck is the one to roll his eyes this time.

“Come on, Kurt, you really think I don’t notice this shit about you? You’re working regular hours for one thing, and I don’t know much about Broadway or fashion or whatever other thing you talked about in high school, but none of them were exactly nine to five deals. You don’t sing anymore, and when you’re forced into it, you break out The Beatles. Everyone knows you only break that out when bad shit’s going down. The only thing that hasn’t changed is your clothes, and I honestly believe going out in last season clothes or with a hair out of place would give you some kind of allergic reaction, so that doesn’t even count. Now what. The fuck. Happened to you?”

Kurt honestly isn’t sure he can move anymore. It takes him a few seconds, but he swallows thickly and puts his fork back on his plate with shaky fingers. For the third time, he tries to gather his words – to remind himself that he’s an articulate human being and two minutes of Noah Puckerman being startlingly perceptive doesn’t change that – but it seems he takes too long because Puck’s speaking again.

“I don’t care if I have to pull a Patrick Swayze and camp out next to your bed all night singing ‘I’m Henry the Eighth I Am,’ I’m not leaving ‘til you make with the explanation.”

Briefly, Kurt pictures that playing out and balks. “God, Puckerman, why do you even _care_? Being friends with my step-brother doesn’t put you in charge of my happiness level, whatever it may or may not be.”

Kurt expects him to – hell, hopes he will – take offense to that and let his defensiveness change the subject, but Puck just scoffs. “Finn’s not the only one in your family I owe a favor or two. Mrs. H practically helped raise me, and your dad’s done me a couple real solids over the years. You were probably the only person at McKinley who always treated me the same no matter what stupid shit I pulled, and in my book that makes you a better friend than pretty much any other I’ve ever had. So quit being a bitch and let me do the same for you.”

*

It takes a few minutes to settle themselves and their dinners on the couch, and another couple for Kurt to dig out a good bottle of wine and two glasses, but eventually he starts talking.

He tells Puck about Uptown Motors, where he works, and where he’s worked for the past five years – four years full time, after he was turned away from his sixtieth audition for having a voice that just wasn’t “appropriate for the director’s vision, but it’s very lovely! I’m sure you’ll find something soon.” He tells him about one of the senior mechanics being an old friend of Burt’s, and offering him a more than generous starting salary.

He tells him about how, back in senior year, his father had made him take all of the certification tests, just in case, and how he’d never imagined actually using them.

He tells Puck about how he’d tried his hand in the fashion world for a while, but never managed to get anywhere because he’d gone to school for musical theater and never made any connections or contacts, which were essential to success in the industry, no matter the level of talent.

He tells Puck about how he hasn’t had a relationship last more than six months since he graduated from college, and how his relationship with Blaine before the other boy decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and go to Yale is still the longest and best he’s ever had.

He tells Puck about the few friends he’s made since he moved to the city, how he’s lost touch with the ones he made in college; how it’s mostly still just Rachel and a couple of guys from the garage who are more comfortable with his interests outside the realm of cars.

He tells Puck about Frank and the ring he’d put on Rachel’s finger two days before; how he is unlikely to be able to live in the apartment much longer, and just the thought of searching for another one exhausts him.

Finally, he tells Puck that sometimes, more and more lately, he wonders if coming to New York in the first place was a huge mistake.

He doesn’t tell Puck just how long it’s been since he was this open with anyone, but he thinks Puck understands anyway.

*

By the time he finishes talking, the bottle of wine is almost gone; they’ve laughed far more than is probably appropriate for a conversation about Kurt’s many life failures; they may as well be cuddling on the couch, with Kurt curled into Puck’s side and Puck’s arm around his shoulders keeping him there; and Rachel and Frank are due home any minute. Kurt decides the last one is probably the safest to focus on. 

He pulls away from the combined warmth of the couch and Puck’s side and grabs their dinner plates, which are long empty, and takes them to the sink. “If you wanted to get out of here sometime before midnight and without having to do an impromptu jam session of New Directions’ Greatest Hits Featuring Rachel Berry, you should probably get out while you still can.

Puck snorts from where he’s followed Kurt to the kitchen and is leaning against the doorframe. “I think I can handle Berry, even after all these years.”

“Just not at eight in the morning,” Kurt shoots back, but once again Puck doesn’t take the change-of-subject bait.

After a long moment, he says, “I want you to do me two favors.”

Kurt turns around from where he’s been half-heartedly soaping up the sink and stares at Puck warily. “What kind of favors?”

“I’m going back to Lima next week for Hanukkah. I want you to come with me.”

He doesn’t instinctively tell Puck ‘no,’ like he would have before, when he was nineteen and still staring at everything in wonder, or when he was twenty-three and sure his big break was just around the corner. He thinks of the plane tickets he already bought for his dad and Carole, and how he’s been dreading showing them around the apartment that might not be his much longer.

But still.

“Moving back to Lima isn’t the answer, Puck. I might not be happy here right now, but living in Lima for the rest of my life was never even an option, and I’m not going to let it become one now just because a few things haven’t gone my way.”

Puck gave a melodramatic sigh and shook his head. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. What you need is to tell your dad everything you just told me, because someone needs to tell you that there are places to be happy that aren’t New York City, and I don’t think you’ll believe it just coming from me. But I’ve never seen a guy who loves his kid as much as Mr. H loves you, and like hell you can tell me that’s not mutual.”

“Well, yes, it is, but-“

“Nope, no buts. I know you’ve always been stubborn as a damn mule, but just this once, do this for yourself and call it a favor to me.” 

Kurt presses his lips together for a long moment, like he hasn’t given in already, then nods sharply just once, but it’s enough to get Puck to send him a blinding grin. “What’s the other favor?”

Puck blinks at him, apparently having forgotten in the midst of his unexpectedly quick success, then nods. “Right! I have eight presents to buy for three different people and a whole mess of other people to buy Christmas presents for, and no idea where to start trying to shop around here. I figure I’ll need an expert.”

Kurt returns the grin that hasn’t quite faded from Puck’s lips and says, “I think I can help you with that.”

Puck manages to narrowly escape and run down the stairs before Rachel and Frank stumble through the door, happy and a little drunk. For the first time since she walked in waving the engagement ring around, Kurt is really, truly glad for them. And suddenly, he’s a little glad for himself too.

*

In addition to showing Puck around the city and helping him shop for around forty presents, Kurt also gets conned into helping him wrap all of them (not that it takes much actual conning). It turns out Puck is completely incapable of cutting in a straight line or properly folding down the ends of a package, so it’s mostly Kurt wrapping and Puck handing him little pieces of tape and filling out the to/from labels, but Kurt doesn’t really mind.

It’s _comfortable,_ the two of them, moreso than he’d ever really thought they could be, sitting alone in Puck’s temporary apartment that’s only been fully unpacked with Kurt’s help and bickering back and forth about whatever comes up.

“I think you’d really like Chicago,” Puck says at one point when it’s been quiet for a while.

“Kurt ages seven to twenty-two would say that the suggestion I could be happy anywhere but New York was blasphemy,” Kurt muses, putting the finishing touches on the new iPod Puck bought for his sister.

“What does twenty-seven year old Kurt have to say?” Puck asks, and Kurt can see from the corner of his eye that he’s watching him.

Kurt shrugs. “He’s a bit more open to suggestion.” He leans forward to put the finished package on the stack and grab the next, pressing his knee firmly against Puck’s in the process. When he sits back, he doesn’t pull it away. Neither does Puck.

*

Lima looks exactly like Kurt remembers it, which he thinks should be ridiculous considering it’s been more than half a decade since he set foot in Ohio, but which at the same time doesn’t surprise him at all.

His dad doesn’t know he’s coming, and Kurt will admit he relishes the way his mouth drops open a little when he opens the door to see who’s knocking on a Wednesday night before he’s sweeping his son into a bear hug that lifts him several inches off the ground.

Kurt may not have realized it until this moment, but he’s missed his dad’s hugs more than anything in the world. They don’t let go for a long time, and even when they do it doesn’t take more than a few seconds before he’s wrapped in Carole’s arms and she’s sniffling a little right next to his ear.

This house, these people, are still home. More than any dorm room or apartment in New York has ever been. And he has no idea how to thank Puck for giving this back to him.

*

He spends the next forty-eight hours glued to his dad’s side, telling him about New York in bits and pieces.

It’s his third night home and he’s curled up next to his dad in the recliner with a rerun on Mythbusters on mute when he finally asks, “Do you think going to New York in the first place was a mistake?”

His dad is quiet for a long time before he finally sighs and clears his throat. “You know I was never the biggest fan of you going to school so far from home, but you had your heart set on New York, so I tried not to say it very much. Remembering what you were like then…after you got your acceptance letters, it was like you were floating, you were so happy. So no, I don’t think it was a mistake to go. I think it was a mistake that you’ve stayed as long as you have. Sticking through something when you’re miserable and it’s not gonna get any better is stupid, and I taught you better than that.”

Kurt blinks back tears and buries his face in his father’s shoulder, but nods. It’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth. His dad’s hand runs soothing lines up and down his side.

“I’ll tell you now what I wanted to tell you then. There are a lot of places in this world, Kurt, and New York’s not the only one that could make you happy. I bet there are even a few a little closer to home,” he tacks onto the end, squeezing Kurt to him a little closer, and Kurt laughs.

“You know, that’s almost exactly what Puck told me. Maybe he’s not as much of an idiot as I always thought he was.”

Burt hums, and when Kurt looks up he’s smirking a little. “Finn told me he’d be in New York for a while. I wondered how long it’d take before he hunted you down. Not long, apparently.”

Kurt shrugs. “His label put him up in the apartment right below mine. If it weren’t for that, I don’t know that he would have.”

“Oh, I do. Kid asks about you every time I see him, and I know he does the same to your brother.” He’s definitely smirking now, and some of the things that hadn’t really fit about his newly re-found friendship with Puck start sliding further into place.

He pulls away from the comforting cage of his dad’s arm and starts searching the floor for his shoes, pulling them on as soon as he’s found them and grabbing his keys from the coffee table. “I’ve got something I need to do. I’ll be back in a little while, okay?” He takes his heavy coat from where it’s hanging next to the door and wraps it around himself.

“It started snowing a little while ago,” his dad says, but makes no move to stop him. “If it gets too bad, you come on home.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” He’s almost out the door when he hears his dad laugh and call out, “Tell him thank you for me!”

*

It’s getting pretty late, but Kurt just hopes that means that Puck’s Hanukkah celebrations will be over for the night, and not that the family has already gone to bed. Holding his coat close around him, he jogs up the front walk and the three short steps to the Puckermans’ front door.

It’s still snowing, so his cheeks are probably bright pink and his hair’s a mess, now with added snowflakes, but he doesn’t really care and he doesn’t think Puck will either.

If he’s right.

He really hopes he’s right.

When Puck comes to the door, he’s wearing the dorkiest seasonal sweater that Kurt’s ever seen, and he’ll definitely be making fun of him for it later, but for now he has to say something before he doesn’t have the nerve anymore.

“So, my dad says thank you. For bringing me home. And so do I. I – really, I don’t even know how to thank you. But I know how to try, and I really hope you don’t punch me for it.” And without giving Puck a chance to respond, he leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s meant to be a quick kiss, at first, because Puck isn’t moving, and that’s probably not a good sign, so he goes to step back, thankful that the cold will cover any blushing he’s doing, but then Puck leans forward to keep them connected and brings his hands to rest high on Kurt’s shoulders. They stay there for a long time, kissing slow and heated, until they finally need to breathe.

Kurt doesn’t move back, content to keep sharing Puck’s warmth, and runs light fingers along the contours of Puck’s face – cheeks, nose, damp lips curved up at the ends. “So, Chicago, huh?”

*

**Epilogue**

_(March 2021) Just two months after the release of his latest album, Windy Nights, rock artist Noah Puckerman has released a new single featuring a previously unknown singer named Kurt Hummel. The two are recently rumored to be dating (insert wry crack at the entertainment industry here), but whether they are or not, this music reporter hopes it’s not the last we hear from Kurt’s unique voice. Perhaps with his own album? Keep it in mind, record execs. We’re the ones keeping you assholes in business._

_In the meantime, word on the street says Mr. Hummel’s been hanging out behind the scenes as a stylist for Puckerman, along with other artists backed by Gleeful Records. With Noah’s tour scheduled to begin this June, maybe we’ll be hearing more from the two of them even sooner than we think._


End file.
